Who Am I Living For?
by f1nn1ck0dair
Summary: Finnick x Annie, beginning when Annie is reaped for her Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

"It is so unbearably hot" Mags squints into the sunlight directly ahead of us, raising her hand to shield her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you like me to leave?" I flash a grin towards Mags, who rolls her eyes. "You are simply unbearable, Finnick." She replies affectionately. "Oh yes, I-" I begin to respond, but something catches my eye. The steady stream of men, women, and children, all filtering into the Main Square for an express purpose.

"It must be nearly time," Mags grimaces, looking down at the silver watch that adorns her wrist. This will be our fifth Reaping together, marking half a decade from my victory.

The sun has just risen to its peak overhead the sea, bearing down upon the hundreds of people standing in front of us. You can easily identify the youngest children in the group. Many, despite the heat, look as though all of the warmth has been stolen from their bodies; they appear as though ice has been injected into their veins. Some of them are clinging to older siblings or parents as though this will be their last chance to do so. Even the youngest among us know what Reaping Day means.

Then there are the older children; sixteen, seventeen, eighteen years old. They stand stoic and solid. Some hold onto the hands of younger children, comforting and reassuring them. Many chose to retreat to the outskirts of the group, finding some solace in their isolation.

And then there are the sick, twisted children who stand as close to the stage as possible, anticipating their names being pulled from the obscenely large blue bowls placed carefully in front of me. Although few, they are the only ones the other Districts see in the recaps of the Reaping. The Capitol must think that it insinuates an approval, or even excitement for the Games. However incorrect, these children have an insatiable hunger in their eyes. It is unnatural, really, and disgusting that these children can have such a lust for blood.

Some people, on the other hand, are nervously laughing. They are undoubtedly imagining what our District's escort, Kyra Guilles, will look like this year. It has become a kind of game in the past few years, ever since the population has realized that it takes the edge off Reaping day to mock one of the Capitol's loyal adherents.

A shrill voice cuts through my thoughts, "Is everyone here? Alright, must be time to begin." Kyra stomps across the stage as a hush of silence falls through the crowd. She shoots a smile in Mags and my direction, waggles her fingers in a greeting. I contort my face into a type of grimace in reply. I take note of her freshly painted appearance. Her skin is an electric blue color, framed with spinning gold tattoos. Some people in front of us giggle and point nervously, especially the younger children. Kyra clears her throat and makes her way towards two opaque globes in the center of the stage. The very same from which my name was pulled not so long ago, and Mags' many years before that.

"Well," Kyra smiles down at her audience. "What a lovely day it is for a Reaping! Shall we get started?" Some people look on the verge of passing out. Those occupying the area closest to the stage give a cheer and raise their arms in the air as though preparing for battle. _Who knows_, I frown_, maybe some of them will get their lucky break. _

"Ladies first, yes?" Kyra's voice pushes onward, and her hand disappears into the containers holding too many names to count. She pulls out a singular piece of paper, and watches as the whole District collectively holds their breath. As always, Kyra feels the need to drag this out so that it is as dramatic as possible. She slowly opens the parchment to read the name; "Annie Cresta?"


	2. Chapter 2

A dead silence falls over the crowd, soon to be replaced with murmurs and shifting feet. My stomach drops, as it always has when the names are called. Luckily, I don't recognize this girl's name. Not that this will make it any easier if she dies on my watch. I raise my hand to my eyes and scan the crowd for the girl whose odds were not in her favor. I see the crowd shifting, each of them looking for this girl. The hush of silence grows into a frenzied whisper as the seconds tick on. "Annie? Where is Annie?" Kyra trills on, scanning the crowd with her unnaturally blue eyes.

But no one seems to have noticed a girl, tiptoeing forwards from the outskirts of the group. People are too consumed in frenzy to realize that she has mounted the stage, moving at a steady pace towards Kyra. This is the first time I see Annie Cresta. Her head is low, her eyes drilling a hole into the ground. This is unusual, that she would just walk up here unnoticed. Normally when a name is called, hysteria ensues. Parents sob as their child goes up to meet their inevitable death. Children wail, holding onto their older sibling for dear life, only to be removed by one of several Peacekeepers. I have seen it all. But not this. This is odd.

"Well," Kyra smiles widely at District Four's female tribute, patting her on the back in a gesture of what she must think to be encouragement. Mags looks at me, her face crumpled, and I can tell what she's thinking. _Poor girl. _But Annie surprises us by raising her head and giving Kyra a dirty look, as if to say "You think I need your sympathy? Well you've got another thing coming." Kyra doesn't notice, and begins rambling on about what an _honor_ it is to be chosen. _Bullshit_, I think. Only someone who is completely protected from the Games would see it in any positive manner. But then again, that's Kyra for you.

This is when I get a good look at her. Annie looks rather normal, really. Long, brown hair falls loosely down her back. She is average in stature and demeanor, but something about her startles me. I can't quite place it until I look my gaze wanders to her eyes. They are a brilliant shade of green, the color of trees at the peak of summer. Annie glances in my direction, only to lock eyes with me. I blush and run a hand through my hair, a nervous habit of mine. Her brow furrows and she turns quickly, looking straight ahead.

I turn my thoughts back to the current events just in time to see Kyra digging around in the orb containing boy's names. She takes her time, rustling around the papers as though she is looking for a peculiar one. A collective groan goes up from the crowd. It seems everyone wants Reaping day done as soon as possible. Finally, she selects a name, and calls it out. "Edlen Wiote?" She glances up expectantly at the crowd, as though this child will cheer and run up to the stage. As if.

To everyone's surprise, Edlen responds in just this manner. I am utterly confused until I see where in the sea of people he was located; right in the front, one of the unstable children with an unnatural craving to kill. Edlen is very tall and very muscular, with blonde hair and striking hazel eyes. I can tell right now that he won't be any fun to mentor. I've had to mentor an arrogant tribute like him before. It ended up being just that quality that killed him.

Once he reaches the stage, he shakes Kyra's hand and lets out a loud cheer. Annie throws him a glance that communicates her obvious loathing. She rolls her eyes and takes a step back before he barrels into her. Kyra, however, is obviously thrilled with this response. She's grinning from ear to ear. Mags and I however, exchange a roll of our eyes. "Happy Hunger Games," Kyra trills for one last time, leading our Tributes towards the train that will take them to the Capitol, "Until next year!"

_Here we go_, I think, heading towards the train. The crowds are filtering out now, so I retreat to give Mags a quick kiss on the cheek. Mags stopped being a mentor the year after I won. She didn't really want to let me do it, since I was rather young, but I wanted to. Mags had already seen so much of the horror that the Games produce. It was my turn now. Right before I walk away, Mags embraces me, and whispers in my ear: _"I'd bet on the girl if I were you." _

We'll see about that.


End file.
